


but we're human tonight

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [52]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, Apocalypse, F/M, Fallen Angels, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: A fic based on "Young God" by Halsey</p>
<p>Summary: The world burns, and so do they, and for the first time, Bellamy feels like losing his wings was worth getting her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but we're human tonight

The night that the stars fall from the blood-red sky, she shows up with a half-empty whiskey bottle in her hand, black dress torn and dark circles under her eyes. As she saunters inside his shithole apartment, Bellamy wonders if she swiped it from someone on the street, someone looking to have one last good night before the world goes to hell–literally, because this is not just an apocalypse, but  _the_  apocalypse.

He finds out soon enough when her lips press against his, and he can taste the liquor on her breath. It stuns him–Clarke is here, kissing him, _wanting_  him, after eons of dancing of the edges of each other’s universes, after ages of resisting what heaven forbids but what he absolutely knows in the very depths of his immortal soul is fate.

“The world is ending, but we still can’t get drunk,” she whispers as she trails kisses down his neck. “How awful is that.” 

He plays idly with the ends of her blonde hair tumbling down her back. “We’re supposed to remember what happens. That’s our punishment.”

She growls in protest, and he chokes out a laugh. “Princess, are you finally on board with the rest of us?”

He regrets saying it, because she freezes, and he senses the tears well up before he sees them cloud her blue-green eyes.

“It’s not fair,” she breathes. “We tried. We tried so hard to save it.” 

He could say  _I told you so_  or  _they don’t care about us or this world_ , but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings her lips to his again, coaxing her, opening her mouth with his tongue as he opens his thoughts to her own mind, thoughts he has kept shielded for so long. She gasps at the flood–all memories of her, of their centuries of working against each other, then of working with each other, of how closely their lives have intertwined and what exactly it means to him.

She clings to him as she realizes just how long he has been in love with her, and then they become a cataclysm of their own, erupting into a mess of tangled limbs and caressing hands. She pulls on his hair and he strips her dress off. They stumble back towards the bed, because the world is ending, and they only have this one short night to make up for thousands of years of lost time. 

“I love you,” she declares as they lay down together, and he is lost and found at the same time.

So the stars fall from the sky, and the sun devours the moon right outside his very window, but all he can see is blue and gold and cream. The cries of humanity dying are drowned out by his name falling from Clarke’s lips in a loud keen as they shatter together, fall together into something even more dangerous than the decaying world and its helpless inhabitants they had chosen over heaven all those years ago. 

After, they don’t untangle themselves, addicted to the pleasure of actually being able to touch, to feel, to experience each other. When his fingers gently run over the long, parallel scars on her back, she cries out, trembling underneath him. It nearly undoes him, to feel the wounds where her wings were torn out. He can imagine them, wide and white with gold streaks running throughout, and sorrow grips him, because he can’t believe they deigned to take them from her, just for wanting to save the human race. 

“Yours?” She mumbles against his chest.

“Black,” he chokes out as she traces over his own scars. “With red.”

“It’s not fair,” she seethes, angry on his behalf instead of her own. “They take everything from us–even this world.”

“We’ll get it back.” He whispers the impossible but true promise into her hair as she holds him close. “We will. They can’t always win–one day we’ll be the victors.”

She looks up at him with sad eyes, loving eyes. “Okay,” she whispers.

He kisses her, and it doesn’t matter if she believes him, because they have tonight. 

At least they have tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Bellarke as fallen angels does things to me. Sigh.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
